Chapter 66
NIKIAS
Nikias was sick of funerals.
He wanted to be done with black mourning clothes. Unfortunately, he’d have roughly three months of wearing them again until he could shed them without scandal.
Although considering the amount of gossip that was going around about him as of late, what was one more scandal to the mix?
It wasn’t like Nikias was actually mourning.
His father was finally gone. He was free, so why didn’t it feel like it?
Nikias stood with the other commanders selected to bear the casket, but he just kept looking back at the doors.
Desperate and pathetic in spite of his resolve, always hoping that maybe just one more glimpse of Aimilia would satisfy him.
He’d only barely gotten a glimpse of her the day before when he’d tried to visit her and Cyprian had turned him away.
Nikias had almost throttled him then and there. He would have deserved it. He was the reason she’d been in such a state to begin with.
Nikias had left only because Cyprian had promised Aimilia would be recovered and at the funeral so he could see her in perfect health himself.
He’d been out of time. There’d been too much to do in order to ensure the funeral went smoothly.
His mother was too distraught to be of any help, and Nikias wasn’t going to wait and hope Gavril made it in time.
As if Gavril would even come for the funeral.
No. Nikias was on his own.
It was time to accept he always would be.
Even if Aimilia had been awake, she would have likely turned him away as well. She had no desire to have anything to do with him. He couldn’t blame her.
He just needed to see with his own eyes that she was well.
Maybe it would kill the nightmares that had been haunting him of her dying in his arms.
He doubted it.
Finally, the doors opened, and Nikias’ breath caught in his throat. Aimilia appeared, walking between Cyprian and her mother, Aimilia holding onto her their arms as she went down the stairs. Her black peplos and cloak nearly hid the way she was clutching them, using them to stay upright.
Nikias’ eyes flickered to Cyprian, who was watching Aimilia’s steps like a hawk. That certainly wasn’t what he’d promised.
Aimilia could hardly walk, not on her own. What had he been thinking ordering the healers to keep Aimilia under while they’d traveled?
Nikias’ stomach turned. Was Cyprian going to disown her next? Was he just waiting until after the funeral?
He shouldn’t concern himself with it. Aimilia wouldn’t want him to. But he couldn’t stop himself.
He had to let her go.
She was going to leave him behind.
Nikias glanced up at the palace. He was going to be suffocated inside those walls, with nothing in his hands as everything he’d ever loved had all escaped his desperate grip.
Commander Livus cleared his throat.
Nikias startled. Everyone was looking to him. Cyprian had been the last of the Runai they’d been waiting for in order to start the procession.
Nikias’ thoughts would still be there for him to drown in later.
The funeral passed by in a blur. Nikias was focused entirely on the mechanical motions, carrying the casket, casting in order to dig the grave.
Commander Livus’ voice was a dull distant noise as he gave orders and led the procession.
He watched as his mother furiously wiped at her eyes and took sharp, shuddering breaths, trying desperately not to cry.
Nikias had no idea what she was feeling. Mostly because he hadn’t been feeling anything.
It certainly didn’t feel like grief.
But it also wasn’t the relief he’d been hoping for.
Finally it was over, and Nikias was surrounded once more by a sea of black as he stood in the courtyard the reception was being held in.
The sun had set as they’d walked back, and the columns and grass were lit by runes placed across the grounds.
His mother had grabbed his arm the second the casket was in the ground and hadn’t yet released it, despite Nikias’ soft attempts to escape by offering to find her a drink or a seat.
Mostly because he spotted Aimilia sitting at a table, her mother hovering over her as Aimilia tried to discreetly rub her legs, her face screwed up and her teeth gritted. If she’d been under for the entire trip, it was no wonder she was sore and exhausted just from the funeral.
But Nikias needed to hear from her mouth she would be alright. That no matter what Cyprian attempted next she would be alright.
He needed to hear that she didn’t need him.
Just one more time.
Maybe this would be the time it finally sank in and he could bury his love for good.
It wouldn’t work. But it was an excuse to throw himself at her feet and when had Nikias ever passed that up?
Nikias was about to try again when Cyprian blocked her from view. He stiffened and started to pull his arm out of his mother’s, but her grip tightened.
Cyprian gestured at something, and Aimilia’s arms moved, but Nikias couldn’t tell what she was doing as they had their little spat. Nikias ripped his arm away, not caring if it bruised, and was about to go over there himself when his mother grabbed his cloak and said, “Don’t.”
“Mother—”
Cyprian stepped back as Aimilia pushed herself out of her chair, glaring at Cyprian. She brushed off her peplos and her cloak. Something flashed in the runelight. Nikias couldn’t make it out in the darkness.
But as she passed by Runai, they all paused and looked at it. Whispers began coursing through the crowd as Aimilia cut through them. She was…
Nikias’ breath caught in his throat as she made her way right toward him.
Two mages from House Gelu darted out of her way, and that was when Nikias could see what was hanging from her neck.
His name.
She was wearing the engagement necklace.
Nikias immediately reached for his pockets, but it wasn’t there. The last time she’d had it she’d thrown it off the tower. He’d found it in the dirt. When had he lost track of it? How had she gotten it back?
More importantly, why was she wearing it?
Aimilia was staring at the ground as she walked on her weak, shaky legs, glancing up only to ensure she didn’t crash into anyone. Nikias stayed perfectly still, his mother’s hand clenched in the back of his cloak as Aimilia finally reached him.
She looked up, and Nikias’ heart stuttered.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, her skin sallow. Her lips trembled, and in the split second he held her gaze, Nikias witnessed a hurricane in her hazel eyes. But then she was staring at the ground.
“Your Highness—”
Her voice cracked, barely a breath. Then she looked over her shoulder, eyes widening at the crowd that had fallen silent, watching them.
Her legs buckled, and Nikias reached out to catch her, but his mother jerked him back, and Aimilia hit the ground in front of him.
Aimilia barely caught herself with her hands.
She took a deep breath, shifting her legs and then putting her hands on her knees, his name hanging in the air.
She closed her eyes and raised her voice.
“Prince Nikias, it… it wasn’t all that long ago that we stood in this courtyard and you asked me… You asked me to marry you.”
Nikias reached behind him, pushing his mother’s hand off him as he held his hand out. “Aimilia, get up. You—”
“Your Highness, please let me finish.” Aimilia still refused to look at him.
“I foolishly refused you all those months ago, and it is my greatest shame. I am here today to rectify my mistakes. You asked me to marry you, even though I am no great beauty nor my character esteemed like Faustina’s.
You gave me an honor that day that I in my arrogance could not see, and I must offer my deepest apologies for rejecting you.
You are a powerful mage, a skilled commander, and you will be the greatest king Imperia has ever seen.
Please, forgive me for not seeing it sooner. ”
Who had put these words in her mouth?
Nikias looked across the crowd, immediately spotting Cyprian, watching with his arms crossed and the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. He wouldn’t get away with this.
But right before Nikias could pull his hand back and put a stop to this charade, a hand grasped his. He looked down to see Aimilia clutching his hand and looking up at him.
“I have no right to ask it of you, but I must. Even though you deserve much better than me, and I can never hope to live up to Faustina, I would be honored if you would even consider me still.” Aimilia’s grip on his hand tightened and she stared straight into his soul.
And Nikias was certain her next three words were the only authentic words in this whole speech. “Please, marry me.”
He wanted nothing more.
But she didn’t.
“What changed your mind?” Nikias tightened his grip on her hand.
Aimilia stared at him, eyes wide, and he could see her mind racing to come up with some kind of an answer.
She glanced behind him, just for a fraction of a second, but then she met his gaze again.
“The challenge… I was so blind. I couldn’t see you clearly with the pain in my arm and the rush of it all.
You were there. You’ve always been there.
I didn’t… I didn’t deserve your offer, but you gave it anyway.
I didn’t understand it at the time, but I do now.
Nikias, I’m certainly not worthy, but if you will have me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be. ”
Nikias opened his mouth.
No.
Not like this.
Something was wrong.
“N—”
But then a clap echoed, drowning him out. “How wonderful this has all finally worked itself out.” His mother stepped out from around him, nudging him. “Son, say it again.”
Aimilia’s hands around his began shaking. He looked down at her, and she mouthed, ‘say yes.’
His refusal was still on his lips until he saw the light reflect on the water in her eyes.
He’d never seen her quite like this.